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HOLLY AND EASTER-LILIES. 




[flOLLY AND 
gASTERlJlLIES 



By Alfred Lambourne 





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THF LJSftAftY OF 
CONGRESS. 



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COPYRIGHT, 1902, 

BY 

ALFRED LAMBOURNE. 



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HOLLY AND EASTER-LILIES. 

I. 

ULL on the morn doth rise 

the Easter-Hymn; 
Glad words of praise this 

time auspicious hail; 
Of that event beyond the 
years grown dim, 
Sweet living voices sing the wondrous tale. 
The world's great miracle anew they tell 
In joyous accents, pure, and silver clear; 
The tidings marvelous, exultant swell, 
With words of promise, fill the listening 

ear. 
Hark ! how the thoughts inspiring buoy- 
ant rise. 
As unto tribes and peoples countless 

sung; 
The message told to all beneath the skies, 
In ancient speech or fresh-created tongue — 
The hymn that One Beloved glorifies 
All varied climes and distant lands among. 




II. 



SEE! while strains of Easter 

joyance grow, 
Three masters, holly-wreath'd, 

look from the wall — 
One who the fairness of the 
earth did show, 
One from whose lips all beauty-truths did 

fall. 
And one who purest sang in golden 

rhyme — 
Supreme in art, in eloquence and song, 
Not merely for a day but for all time. 
Three masters whom the world will cher- 
ish long ! 
But what of Him, Great Master of all men. 
Who, kiss-betrayed, yet for all sorrow 

wept? 
Who Mercy added to commandments ten; 
By whose sad tomb the Roman vigil kept; 
Who first appeared unto the loved one's 

ken; 
He who awoke the chords of love that 
slept ? 




III. 

HE Christmas Holly in the 
wreaths is dead; 
Each crisp and withered leaf 
is wan of hue, 
J As drops of precious blood, 
its berries red, 
Like those that once the cruel spear- 
point drew. 
And underneath the sad, death-conquered 

leaves, 
Fit emblems of distrust's and fear's dark 

hour, 
Uprises from the mold and life achieves — 
Breaks into crowns the tall, white, Easter 

Flower. 
And here the eyes filled with a love pro- 
found, 
His who makes sacred still that far-off 

morn, 
One more than all the proudest kings 

renowned — 
The world's wide Light though in a 

stable born, 
Who was with lilies nor with myrtle 

crowned. 
He who wore here instead the crown of 
thorn. 




IV. 

OOK ! the Messiah, low in 
manger laid ! 
Whose birth the gates of hope 

did swift unbar; 
To whom the shepherds 
adoration paid; 
The Magi, star-led, came from lands afar; 
Who o'er each little head fond blessings 

spake; 
Between the pair of thieves was crucified; 
Who with His blood did world-atonement 

make, 
Now wears a crown of light on earth 

denied. 
The Lord and Master who did suffer pain, 
Who labored meek amid the cedar chips; 
The learned Rabbis tasked as youth, in 

vain, 
Who was reviled,mock-sceptered,scourged 

with whips: 
The Parable of Lilies hear again, 
Sweet words that trembled on His full, 
ripe lips. 




V. 



O! He whose words still seek 
the human heart, 
Jesus of Nazareth, Mary's 
loved son. 
Whose fame is known in ham- 
let, town and mart, 
Resplendent grown from lowliness begun. 
He who would ease the laden human 

breast. 
Rebuked the Pharisees who fain would 

kill; 
Who on a stone needs lay His head in 

rest 
Twixt Bethlehem and Calvary's dark hill. 
O, at the door is that low summons 

heard — 
Will now unfold the rusted bolt and lock ? 
Can love and duty longer be deferred 
To gentle shepherd who would lead His 

flock? 
Rank nettles, ivy, noisome weeds, all gird 
The closed door where long He stands to 
knock. 



VI. 




|H, CHRIST, loved Son of 
Man, we saw Thy cross ! 
Full hard the cross of doubt 

and pain to bear; 
What gift of knowledge shall 
make up the loss, 
If we to empty despond are made heir? 
If trust and confidence to questions turn, 
When love and hope are made the sport 

of time; 
If in the brain all wisdom anxious burn, 
And cold doubt lies upon the heart like 

slime? 
O, unto doubt itself, Ye bring a hope — 
Unbound by selfish or by narrow creed, 
That bids us mid dead formalisms grope. 
That leaned on, fails us like a broken 

reed, — 
But like Thy mighty love of boundless 

scope — 
With cross we follow where Thy footsteps 
lead! 



VII. 




HE CROSS of earth, we 
carry in the dark, 
Grope for the pleasure that 

we seldom find; 
The marshy light mistake for 
sacred spark, 
And stumble oft, blind leaders of the 

blind. 
Yet truth to reach, to grasp, our thoughts 

aspire. 
We fain would out the mass of error 

burst. 
But, in the strife unequal, oft we tire, 
As men upon a desert parch with thirst. 
O sinfulness the stream of life pollutes, 
And acrid sorrow doth the heart corrode; 
Upon our lips is taste of dead-sea fruits, 
The flesh is weak beneath its heavy load; 
In sore distress we cry, or else are mute, 
Faint and aweary, on life's toilsome road. 



VIII, 

WAY with all sad thoughts, 
ffjl^^SA t'^is time of bloom ! 
t/m'^^^4 Hail now, bright joy of fresh- 
awakened spring, 
The Easter-Lilies and the 
broken tomb, 
When nature, one vast choir, begins to 

sing ! 
The crumbling holly tells of death, alas ! 
But on each limb, the bursting buds all 

gleam; 
And warm, the south winds touch the 

cheek, and pass 
In whispers soft, that benedictions seem. 
So, after winter's cold and driven sleet, 
The blood is stirred like sap within the 

tree; 
And ways are filled with little children 

sweet. 
As those of whom He said, "Come unto 

me, 
With faces happy and with tripping feet, 
Voices they raise in gladsome jubilee. 




IX. 

TRAPPINGS white, slow 
the white horses come, 
White is the hearse, and white 

plumes sway above; 
White flowers upon white 
casket where lips dumb, 
No more shall answer to a mother's love. 
And those too young to understand 

Death's might, 
With wondering pity in each guileless eye, 
On this glad morning, gaze upon the 

sight, 
Until the last black carriage has rolled by. 
Yes, hushed each voice that waged a merry 

strife; 
And Christmas Holly withers on the door ! 
But there the lilies grow with beauty rife. 
There is the face of Him who sorrow 

bore — 
"I am the Resurrection and the Life. 
Behold; I am alive forevermore !" 




X. 



|H. CHRIST, the awful mys- 
tery we see, 
The tireless shadow never- 
more is strange; 
Life out of death, and death 
that life may be; 
From death to life, life, death, in endless 

change. 
What lies behind the veil, we fain would 

know; 
That secret of the soul grows never old; 
All human prides to dark oblivion go; 
The graves of earth, all things of earth 

enfold. 
O, as a meteor vanisheth, we die; 
The common end doth come to one and 

all; 
Thrones topple, and to low is brought the 

high; 
The strong, the weak, the poor, the 

mighty, fall; 
In nothingness all vanities doth lie; 
And time o'er time is gathered like a pall. 




XI. 

AS THE holly-wreaths of 

Christmas fade, 
So all of brightest comes to 

saddened close ! 
O, as the lily on the scythe's 
keen blade, 
So lie the innocent the Pale One mows. 
From age to age, the will of man is broke, 
Not of his giving, lease, or grant, may 

stand, 
His head must bow to meet the coming 

stroke. 
His purpose holds but as the running 

sand. 
O, still is need of Thy sweet acts of grace, 
For fear and lust yet hold the world in 

fee; 
The merciless to pity slow gives place, 
And tides of war flow like the tides of sea; 
And dust of dust o'er all the world we 

trace. 
The countless dead who slumber still in 
Thee. 




XII. 

EA, all the dead of ages 
slumber still, 
^ And their lost voices come to 
us no more, 
They rise not up, come forth 
on plain nor hill. 
Ascend to life, from ocean's sunken floor! 
Yet, take our lives and mould them unto 

Thine, 
Take our poor love for that deep love Ye 

gave; 
Let Thine example through the darkness 

shine. 
And peace as sweet be ours unto the 

grave. 
O, well Ye taught, no guide can love 

surpass. 
That Bure it leads unto the Father's throne; 
This central thought did leaven all the 

mass — 
The mystic words, the deeds of mercy 

shown. 
Yea, Christ, Thou Gentle One, Thou art 

the glass— 
The heart supreme, wherein true love is 
shown. 




XIII. 

H E might of loving, Christ 
revealeth us — 
May we that lesson in its 

fulness learn ! 
O, falsely speaks that tongue 
and slanderous, 
That doth to menace Thy sweet preach 

ments turn. 
From out the clay and mire Thou lifteth 

up, 
Thou mak'st us feel within our breasts the 

good. 
Yea, all unseen, Thou com'st with us to 

sup,_ 
Fill us with joy of noble brotherhood. 
No; not that we are only lost and vile — 
We feel a virtue on our foreheads sealed, 
Within our hearts, a strength that is not 

guile, 
A will that bids us not to baseness yield: 
Our lives and thoughts, O may they not 

revile 
The Christmas Holly, Lilies of the Field. 



XIV. 




O ! as at morn a dove that 
upward springs, 
Bathes glad its plumage in 

expanse of light, 
So we, within Thy love, O 
King of Kings, 
Rejoice in hope that follows after night. 
The weary soul doth ever near Thee draw; 
In Thy compassion dwells a faith secure, 
All tenderness and just. Thy simple law; 
Thy life, all spotless as the lilies pure. 
Yes; love shall triumph, blameless Prince 

of Peace ! 
And one by one the creeds of hate decay; 
Thy gentle message gives the world 

release, 
As time moves onward to a clearer day — 
O, may Thy loving conquest never cease, 
As all the future ages roll away ! 



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^^C 12 1902 



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